Figure of Speech: Paradiastole

My favorite euphemism was born one fine Sunday afternoon when a Jehovah’s Witness came proselytizing at our door. Husband answered, intending to politely explain we were already zealously devoted to the Dark Lord, when the good Witness spotted one of our cats, Bartholomew. When Husband saw the man’s eyes fall onto and then expand at the glorious sight he beheld, he waited, and, after a pause, the good Witness remarked, “My, he is plentiful.”

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Not named after the apostle, but does deserve a feast day.

Paradiastole utilizes euphemisms (you’re welcome for the two-fer FoS, by the way) to transform a negative into a positive, most frequently to recast a bad characteristic as a good one. While all paradiastole is a form of euphemism, all euphemism isn’t paradiastole. With any old euphemism, you’re replacing the offending word with a less harsh word without necessarily modifying the meaning (excusing the fact that all synonyms do carry at least very slight differences in meaning), but with paradiastole specifically, you’re purposely attempting to alter the listener’s perception of a word or concept by stating something is not what they think.

I feel like I probably use paradiastole in casual speech, typically when grasping desperately at some form of comedy.

“Ashley, are you sick? You don’t look so good.”
“Oh no, the red-nosed and eye-bagged look is so in right now. I’m not sick, I’m fashionable.”

or

“It’s not a bug, it’s a feature!” – So sayeth all the developers at work.

But while researching this figure of speech, I realized this sounds remarkably like the exact kind of rhetoric that scares me. It’s the kind typically used to maliciously convince people to do things that are not in their own or others’ best interests, and it’s used to mask hatred and xenophobia, giving people an out for their horrendous beliefs.

It allows people to say things like “Donald Trump isn’t racist or a misogynist, he just tells it like it is, he’s bold, and he speaks his mind.” Intolerance rebranded as a virtue.

Of course this use isn’t new, it’s existed as long as language has for sure, but we can look back to Quintillian and his work in 95 A.D. (yes, 2000 years ago, hang with me) for more explanation. In Institutio Oratoria in response to being questioned in a court of law regarding a thing you cannot possibly deny, he states one should:

restate the facts, but not at all in the same way; you must assign different causes, a different state of mind and a different motive for what was done…you must try to elevate the action as much as possible by the words you use: for example, prodigality must be more leniently redescribed as liberality, avarice as carefulness, negligence as simplicity of mind.

So yeah, one of the greatest rhetoricians in history is suggesting you “play dumb” in court, but beyond that he is admitting that paradiastole is not necessarily a genuine use of a synonym or even a reunderstanding of the concept in question. It goes beyond the basest use of rhetoric–to convince–and acknowledges paradiastole can be used essentially to lie.

This FoS isn’t always used maliciously. Sometimes you must convince someone of something that isn’t necessarily true. Or you think you must. I’m sure there are at least a few politicians who, even though they know they are lying, think they’re doing it for the greater good, and an argument can be made that intent is more meaningful than outcome.

Per Aristotle, “whenever one calls oneself wise rather than cunning, or courageous rather than overconfident, or careful rather than parsimonious” that’s paradiastole. And you could say that’s…fibbing, to “euphemize” it.

So when do we lose the actual meaning of the words used to usurp the truth? Just as Obama’s “change” became horrific to conservatives, making America “great” again has become synonymous with a joke for liberals (though I would argue one was true and one is not).

I love that language is always evolving–when a language stops changing and moving, like a shark, it dies–but like any good English major, I fear change in language a bit. I love certain words, and I hate the potential loss of them, especially when losing them hinges on some fucko wanting to kinda pretend to not be a dick. And like how pervasive truthiness is now (Stephen Colbert really called it, man), paradiastole is rendering a major change in communication as well.

So how can you use paradiastole in your writing? Well, do you have a character with a blaring personality disorder?

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Figure of Speech: Zeugma

I first heard the term zuegma in a course on Shakespeare. I don’t remember the Shakespearian example given, but the second was from Alanis Morissette’s “Head Over Heels”:

You held your breath / And the door for me

That’s stuck with me because it’s such a perfect illustration of the term. But this post would be too short if I stopped there.

Loosely, zeugma is a figure of speech that defines when a single word is used to convey two separate things. Zeugma come in a variety where the word in question is used once to convey the same meaning twice or to convey a literal and figurative meaning of the same word, usually a verb.

Some of my favorite examples:

“Out teeth and ambitions are bared” – “Be Prepared,” The Lion King

“You are free to execute your laws and your citizens as you see fit.” – Star Trek: TNG

“She came right on time and repeatedly.” – I don’t know if this is from something or I just made it up. I’m sorry and you’re welcome.

I’m not sure why I’m so drawn to zeugma. It’s clever, it’s unexpected, and it’s often used to underscore something more dramatic or sinister than what’s on the surface, so you could call it tricky. It’s almost like a little joke that makes you snicker, but when you fully comprehend the punch line you’re a bit alarmed with yourself for having laughed. In any case, it’s my favorite figure of speech.

I think we often say something is a “figure of speech” when referring to a specific idiom (“kick the bucket,” “six feet under,” “pushing up daisies,” and lots of others that aren’t morose), but FoS are all of the ways to express those idioms and the rhetorical devices we use to turn writing from just words into something worth reading.

I feel pretty strongly that creativity, writing and rhetoric specifically, come from within. You can be taught about certain things and then utilize them once you’re aware of them, but whether you utilize them effectively or cleverly is up to what you’re born with. If you’re a writer-type, you probably naturally utilize zeugma without even knowing what it is, but once you’re aware of the tool and how it functions, you can put it to its best use. And, in the best of cases, you can break all the rules around it.